


Filthy Sinner

by RedBubbles



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Reader is not a virgin, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 16:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10442442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBubbles/pseuds/RedBubbles
Summary: This is purely self indulgent smut. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely self indulgent smut. Enjoy!

Lutz hangs over you, his eyes bright in the darkness. A half smirk plays on his face. You’re both stark naked, bodies pressed against each other, your legs wrapped around his hips, his hands on your shoulders.

But you’re hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” he purrs, lowering his head until the tip of his nose resting in the curve of your neck, “you a virgin?”

“No!” you hiss, giving his stomach a soft punch, “it’s just been a while,”  
“Hmm…if you’re expecting me to go gentle, it ain’t gonna happen, kätzchen,”  
“You’re ruining it, Lutz,”  
“You’re enjoying this,”  
“I’m sure I’d enjoy actually having sex a lot more!” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. He raises his head and looks at you with a cheeky grin.

“You gonna beg for it or what?”

You scoff and begin to loosen your hold.  
“You’re gonna have a serious pair of blue balls if you don’t shut up and fuck me,”  
He laughs and trails little kisses up your neck to your jaw.  
“What happened to ‘it’s been a while’?”  
You begin to squirm, moving as though you’re about to slide off the bed. His arms cage you in, and he leans down with a growl, pressing his chest against yours.

"Alright, alright,”

You turn your head to kiss him, tightening your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

Slowly, one hand tangles itself in his hair, and the other trails down his back, tracing his spine, scraping your nails down his skin softly. To your surprise, he shivers and lets out a small moan.

“For the love of god, do that again,”  
“Do what?”  
“Scratch my back,” he says, breathlessly. You trail your fingertips down his back, feeling the muscles shift and twitch under his skin. You gently scrape your nails across his spine, and he flexes his shoulders, letting out a soft groan.

“I’d really like it if, y’know, I could get an orgasm too,” you say sarcastically. He half opens his eyes, giving you a scathing look.  
“Is that a challenge?”  
“Well I sure as hell hope not. I was sort of expecting to get an orgasm whether I challenged you to give me one or not,”

He watches you for a few seconds, a different sort of smile on his face, and then shifts his weight backwards.

“Well, I’m not gonna be giving you anything except a kid if I don’t get a condom,”

He sits up and leans over you to grab something off the bedside table. You sit up too, running your hands up and down his chest.  
“I never had you down as a masochist,” you say, your tone surprisingly sultry. Lutz’s eyes flicker up to yours, lusty curiosity evident in them.  
“I’m not a masochist,” he says, then tears to foil wrapper off the condom off with his teeth, “I just have a sensitive back,”

You move closer to him, pressing your body against his and trailing your nails up and down the line of his spine. The condom sits forgotten between his forefinger and thumb as his eyes half close and he moans. You press a butterfly kiss to his jaw.

“As much as I love seeing you enjoy yourself, you aren’t the only one with sexual frustration,” you say in a slightly sarcastic tone. Lutz gives you a wicked grin, snapping back to his usual self immediately.  
“Stick with me, kätzchen, and you won’t know sexual frustration ever again,”  
You laugh softly and kiss him on the lips, open mouthed and sloppy. You feel his hand brush your stomach, once, twice, three times. He breaks the kiss reluctantly.

“I’ve never had a chick so desperate she can’t stay away long enough to even let me get the damn condom on,”

You slap his arm, and he rolls the condom on properly.  
“I am not desperate!”  
He pushes you back down onto the bed, hanging over you.  
“Sure you’re not,”  
You glare up at him and fold your arms.  
“Besides, the only kind of ‘chicks’ you can pick up are the desperate ones,”

He raises an eyebrow and gently prises your arms apart. He kisses your sternum, then further down, between your breasts. You shiver.  
“Yourself being the exception, I presume?”  
“Myself being the exception,” you agree, cupping his face and bringing it back up to yours, pecking his lips. He leans his forearms either side of you, chest pressed flush against yours. He kisses your jaw.

“You ready, schätzchen?”

“Do you even need to ask? You’ve been teasing me all-oooohhhh…”  
He pushes in, and the burn you had usually felt with past partners never came, replaced instead by the instant swell of warm pleasure. You moan softly.  
“Oh, fuck, Lutz,” you gasp.  
“Calm down and try not to orgasm too soon, I’m not even all the way in,”  
He continues to push in, and _oh fuck_ , he feels good. 

“Fuck,” you whisper again, and he parrots it not a few seconds later. You clamp a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You ok?”  
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He thrusts slowly, experimentally, and your moan is muffled against your hand. He grins slightly, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away from your mouth.

“Let me hear you, kätzchen,” he purrs, thrusting again, “I wanna hear you,"

You wrap your legs around his hips tighter, encouraging him to move deeper. His thrusts are slow and purposeful, but you know what he’s capable of. You want to unravel him. You want him to come undone.

“Lutz, fuck,” you moan, and he kisses up your neck gently, thrusting again, slow and deep, “Christ, fucking _move_ dammit,”

He pauses, halfway in, a shit eating smirk on his face.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna beg,”  
You grit your teeth, sliding your hand up his neck and into his hair, messing it up.  
“I am not begging,” you growl, “I am commanding,”

You pull him down into a heated kiss, your teeth snagging his lips, and he thrusts a little harder, a little faster, but dammit, you want _more_.

“I will ride you if you don’t pick up the fucking pace,” you mutter against his lips. You feel him grin, and his pace picks up slightly.  
“As much as I find that image sexy as hell,” his hands caress your waist, up your chest, his hands encircling your wrists, “tonight, I’m in charge,”

In a swift movement, he pins your hands above your head and thrusts in at the same time, making you cry out. The pace is set, and his hips snap back and forth as he drives himself into you. The sounds that pour from your mouth; the moans, the whines, the whimpers, the gasps, would make any good Christian cringe, but you are not a good Christian.

You are a filthy, filthy sinner.

“You like that?” he growls, “you like my cock splitting you open like this? You like being fucked into the mattress?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your forehead against your bicep as he fucks you, and he seizes the opportunity at your open neck to pepper it with bite marks and kisses, sucking a red mark into your skin, and then sucking harder when it fades.

“Yes,” you gasp, cursing yourself internally for giving in so easily, “yes, shit, yes, I do,”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine the triumphant grin on it.

You desperately want to dig your nails into his back, grip his arms, hold his face, but your arms are trapped, and you strain against his hold, whining.

You aren’t the only one making noise. He’s grunting and moaning, inhaling sharply through his teeth when you flex and tighten around him, letting out soft whispers of ‘fuck’ whenever you meet his eyes.

He gets the hint, feeling your hands scrabbling on the pillow and releases you. Your hand immediately go around his neck, nails clawing at his back. He moans loudly, forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“God, Lutz,” you moan, throwing your head back. You can feel your belly tightening, your legs twitching, and your hips arch up to meet his animalistic thrusts, which are becoming sloppier and faster.

He says nothing, but his eyebrows twitch, and he lets out a long, low, animalistic groan, bowing his head and thrusting into you hard, shoving you over the edge too.

He goes still, and you cry out, your grip on him tightening as you both orgasm, probably the first time you’ve ever actually orgasmed at the same time as your partner.

Lutz is panting, and he raises his head slowly. A few loose locks of hair fall over his forehead, and once you’ve mustered up enough strength to move your arms again, your brush them back. He’s grinning, but not the same smug look you’re used to.

“Told you I could make you cum,” 

Maybe that smirk was just a _tiny_ bit smug.

You slap his shoulder, laughing breathlessly, and he pulls out slowly. He rests on his forearms, and then sits up. You can just about make out his back in the half light. Small, red crescent shapes litter his shoulders and upper back, along with long, wide claw marks that are quickly becoming white, raised welts. A few have broken the skin. You sit up too, trailing your fingers over them.

“You shouldn’t have told me you liked having your back scratched,” you say, and he stands up, rolling his shoulders. He glances over his shoulder at you, giving you a smirk.  
“Why not? They’re my battle scars,”  
With an exasperated sigh, you gather up the blanket and wrap it around your bare shoulders.  
“Please don’t equate sex with me to a _battle_ ,”

He walks back over having tossed the condom away and sits down beside you, leaning in to kiss you. Unlike the others, it’s soft and tender, and when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. You draw small circles on his thigh, enjoying the closeness and the heat radiating off his body.

“Can I ask you a question?”  
You smile slightly.  
“I knew it,”  
He pulls back a little, frowning.  
“Knew what?”  
You poke his chest with an accusing finger.  
“I knew you were sappy post-sex. You’re gonna ask if we can cuddle or get married or something,”  
His confused smile becomes a wide grin, and then he starts laughing. He ruffles your hair condescendingly, and stands up.

“You wish. I was gonna ask if you wanted to order pizza,”  
“Oh,” is all you say, and he laughs again, patting your shoulder.

“Maybe in a few months. We could have a Vegas wedding,”  
“Oh, please,” you mutter, shoving his hand off your shoulder, “I’m far classier than that. We’ll have a drive through wedding,”

He chuckles.  
“The height of class. Pepperoni pizza ok?”  
“You know I love that sausage,” you reply, winking. He wiggle his eyebrows at you as he pauses in the doorway.  
“As long as it isn’t Italian sausage, i’m fine with you loving it,”

He walks out, and you stand up too, stretching. You ache, but pleasantly, and you make your way to the door, pausing in front of the toilet.

“Italian sausage is bigger!” you call down the hallway. A loud laugh is your response.  
“Yeah, but German sausage has a 100% satisfaction guarantee!”

“We’ll see about that when we’ve been married for 5 years,” you call back.

It may be the yellow brick road to hell, but you’d be damned if sinning didn’t feel fucking fantastic.


End file.
